


all too much and not enough

by LadyMerlin



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Consensual Kink, Don't copy to another site, Edward Elric Swears, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Fucking Machines, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sybian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-07 06:52:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18405398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: On the other hand, if Mustang comes any closer, Ed thinks no restraint on earth could protect him from Ed’s wrath.Maybe Mustang knows this too, which is why he’s keeping his distance. Bastard.





	all too much and not enough

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired by this glorious [piece of art](https://twitter.com/kotosk1/status/1115316164723466240?s=20) by [Kotosk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iginita/pseuds/kotosk).

Initially Ed had hated the restraints, but he’s grateful for them now, because he doesn’t think he has the strength to keep himself upright anymore. At least this way he can hang his head and close his eyes against the overwhelming pleasure searing through his body, a cacophony of misfiring nerves.

A thick shaft is vibrating lowly inside him, and after how he’s been used today, it’s just plain uncomfortable. Ed shifts his hips until the head is pressing against a spot which is slightly less sensitive, though it doesn’t really help, since his entire body feels like one huge sore spot. The dull thrumming is both too much and entirely not enough. He wants to hack the machine to pieces with a saw but he also never wants it to stop. The vibrating intensifies. His cock twitches and Ed moans, because it’s not _possible_. He can’t go again, he just —

“Five more minutes, Fullmetal,” Mustang says from his desk, a full five meters away. Ed swears under his breath, and isn’t sure whether he’s grateful or furious for the distance.

On one hand he _desperately_ wants to be touched. He wants Mustang to put his hands on Ed’s body and feel what this fucking thing is doing to him, wants Mustang to hold him while he’s shaking to pieces and after, when the sweat is cooling; he wants Mustang to be affected by this too. On the other hand, if Mustang comes any closer, Ed thinks no restraint on earth could protect him from Ed’s wrath.

Maybe Mustang knows this too, which is why he’s keeping his distance. Bastard.

The shaft starts pulsing inside him, apparently starting out on another cycle of interminable torture. Ed is just about to articulate a new series of death threats when the entire base-plate lifts up, forcing the shaft deeper into him, and he loses all his words on a helpless exhale. His seat is so precarious that there’s no way he can escape it, even if he had the strength to move his legs anymore. He’s caught at the mercy of an uncaring machine, controlled by the biggest bastard to ever exist.

He’s been through at least four reps but he still hasn’t figured out the pattern, because every time he tries to muster a coherent thought, the machine fucks it right out of his head. He can’t remember how many times he’s come since Mustang tied him up, but he thinks it’s one or two too many. He can’t feel his extremities anymore, and his lower back is _screaming_ in protest.

The shaft moves inside him, slow but agonizingly precise, and soon enough he can’t catch his breath, panting like he’s run a marathon. He lets his head sag again, letting his eyes fall shut. Ed doesn’t know what kind of noises he makes when the machine speeds up, pushing repeatedly against the same quivering spot, but apparently they’re enough for Mustang’s curiosity to override his sense of self-preservation. He hears the creak of the chair as Mustang gets up to gawk, or perhaps to taunt his total loss of control.

He’s not expecting it when a hand touches his cheek, softly.

He jerks his head up to find Mustang standing over him, fully clothed in his stupid blue uniform. He can’t read the expression on Mustang’s face. He tries to glare but he’s exhausted; can’t remember the last time he was so drained. He wonders if it’s possible to die from being fucked too much. He wonders what kind of eulogy Al would give.

 _Here lies my big brother, who always bit off more than he could chew_...

Mustang sinks to a crouch in front of him until they’re just about eye-level. His other hand comes up to cup Ed’s face and he _should_ pull away on principle, but Mustang’s hands feel so good that Ed can’t make himself draw back. The base-plate bucks up again and Ed whines, sagging heavily against the restraints. Mustang thumbs away tears which Ed hadn’t even noticed running down his cheeks.

“You’re lovely like this,” Mustang says, and he sounds so fucking _sincere_ that Ed’s going to tear him into pieces with his bare hands, once he can walk again.

Goddamn bastard _liar_ . Ed _knows_ he’s a mess. He can see the ugly red flush on his own belly and he knows it has probably spread all the way up to his face. He’s dripping with sweat and covered in the remnants of his own come, and when he moves he can hear the squelch of what must have been a literal gallon of lube over the whirring of the machine. _And_ his hair is a disaster, to boot. He can tell because it’s hanging in his face and he’s not sure whether that’s what is impeding his vision, or whether he’s actually about to pass out. There’s nothing attractive about him, like this.

Mustang traces his index finger against Ed’s lips but is smart enough to keep it out of his mouth; Ed isn’t so far gone that he can’t bite. “I wish I could keep you like this, Ed,” he whispers, and Ed -- Ed could _scream_.

He _hates_ that he doesn’t hate the thought, that maybe the image of being kept like this, on display for Mustang’s pleasure, isn’t entirely repulsive, not that he’d ever admit it. His cock twitches again and probably gives him away. “Think you could manage one more, darling? I know you can,” Mustang coos and Ed _hates_ that he doesn’t hate him.

The shaft inside him starts twisting, and the base of the machine starts moving too, forcing Ed to rock his hips back and forth to keep his seat. He bites his tongue to keep from crying out as his movement makes the machine hit the most sensitive spots inside him, forcing screaming sensation past the numbness that had taken over. His eyes are squeezed tight and he doesn’t want to know what kind of face he’s making, even though it’s probably really funny. He can’t look at Mustang now, so cool and collected, like this hasn’t affected him at all.

Every single thought leaves his head when Mustang’s lips press against his, and Mustang’s hand skims down his chest to wrap around his neglected cock. His jaw drops in surprise and Mustang takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into Ed’s mouth, somehow fucking him in tandem with the machine. Ed can’t even muster the energy to kiss back, and just lets Mustang plunder his mouth until he’s the only thing Ed can taste and smell, filling all of Ed’s senses.

When Mustang starts stroking his cock, hot tears push past his closed eyelids. He didn’t think he could bear this much, but he has, even though he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold. He clamps down on every voice in his head that says he can’t come again, that there’s nothing left in him, that he’s not ready for another orgasm. It’s clearly going to happen whether he wants it or not, judging by the way all his muscles have tensed up in anticipation, by the way he can’t help but clench around the intrusion in his ass.

It doesn’t take much after that, not with Mustang’s callouses dragging along his sensitive skin, with his hands tweaking Ed’s nipples, his mouth sucking on Ed’s tongue, both gross and incendiary.

When he comes, it’s _devastating_. He doesn’t spill, but it feels like his orgasm is being scraped out of him with hot knives. His muscles spasm hard and freeze, every inch of him in glorious agony, toes curled into excruciating twists and, and he definitely feels the tears this time when they brim over in his eyes. He chokes on a sob when the sensation doesn’t die down, instead reverberating through his body like an echo in an empty cave, leaving his body quaking. After the first sob, the tears don’t stop.

Mustang instantly slaps a switch at the base of the machine and it freezes, and he has Ed’s arms uncuffed in seconds. He hooks his arms below Ed’s armpits and lifts him bodily off the machine, clearly aware that Ed’s not going to be able to lift his own weight. Ed is still shuddering hard when Mustang pulls him into a hug, pressing Ed’s face into his own chest, keeping him still.

Ed lets himself sob into the stupid blue uniform as Mustang rubs sensation back into his aching arms, clearly uncaring that his clothes are going to be filthy by the end of this. When Mustang kisses his hair over and over again, Ed sobs even harder, though he doesn’t know why. Mustang hushes him but doesn’t pull back, stroking his back with steady hands, holding him tight.

When Ed finally comes down, Mustang sighs and draws back just enough to study Ed’s face. He wipes at Ed’s cheeks with his hands and sets about smoothing Ed’s hair back into place, out of his face. “Did we overdo it, darling?”

Ed wants to snap and roll his eyes, because of course not, Ed can handle _anything_. But something of his exhaustion is still affecting him and instead he just shakes his head. “Next time, stay with me?”

Mustang smiles at him and kisses the tip of his nose. Ed can’t help but roll his eyes. “It would be my pleasure, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> title from a quote by Jack Kerouac.
> 
> I wrote this fic in 1.5 hours on the train on the way to work because I just couldn't get it out of my head. Accordingly, this has not been beta'd. I'm posting it before I change my mind. I'd apologise, but I'm not sorry.
> 
> My unending gratitude to the folks over at the RoyEd discord server - I’ve just joined and I already love you guys. 
> 
> I’ve had an enormously rubbish day. Please send love.


End file.
